


I Trust You When You Don't

by EchoResonance



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Gen, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoResonance/pseuds/EchoResonance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanda is not the type to put his faith in other people. He'd learned form experience that such an act was a surefire way to get yourself hurt, or worse. And yet there's one person even now whom he can't help but trust, even if it doesn't show very well.<br/>(For Yullen week. Prompt 1: Trust)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Trust You When You Don't

Allen...Allen was tired. So very, very tired of this. Tired of waking up every day as if he hadn’t slept at all, tired of looking at his reflection and seeing that shadow at his side, tired of the whispers and the looks, tired of his own personal watchdog with the spots on his forehead. He was tired of questioning himself, of wondering who he really was and if the path he thought he had chosen had been predetermined from the start. Once upon a time his friends could have helped; Lavi with his obnoxious cheer, Lenalee with her bright smile, even Kanda, with his...well...Okay, maybe not all of his friends. Kanda could at least have distracted him, a long time ago. But now, though they were around him constantly, doing their best for him, he felt more empty and more alone than he could ever remember being.

He sighed and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. It had grown out quite a bit, as he hadn’t really felt like cutting it, so it curled lazily around his neck, almost brushing his shoulders. Lavi had commented on it, making jokes about compensating for Lenalee’s short hair, and Lenalee mentioned that she would be willing to help him trim it if he wanted, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter at this point, did it? A haircut wasn’t going to magically make the Fourteenth go away. A haircut wasn’t going to end this madness.

Looking around, Allen had to at least acknowledge a tiny bit of luck in that he had a momentary reprieve from Link’s ever-present person. He leaned his back against one of the trees in the HQ gardens, thanking whatever scientist was making Link help them with their paperwork. The older boy wasn’t bad, exactly, and in fact was sometimes quite pleasant, but that didn’t change the reason he was following Allen, and it certainly didn’t lighten the burden on his shoulders. He almost would have preferred if Link was an outright asshole about watching for the Fourteenth, because at least then he would be sure what was going on, instead of having brief moments where he could forget, only to be forcefully reminded moments later. No, Link’s kindness, false or not, just brought Allen down even more.

He held his left arm out in front of him, looking indifferently at the inky color, at the skin that wasn’t skin, at the glowing cross-shaped mark on the back of his hand. Why? He was an Exorcist. His Innocence was embedded in his arm, and had been born that way. He’d never been anything but an Exorcist, even when he was very young and hadn’t known it. So why? How? How could a Noah’s memory reside in him? What cruel irony had possessed the universe to place in him a tenuous balance of two violently opposing forces? A sword that could Exorcise God’s enemies, including Noah, belonging to the host of the exiled fourteenth apostle himself? What kind of a sick joke was his existence?

Maybe… He closed his eyes. Maybe it would be easier, better even, to stop fighting it so hard. No matter how much he struggled, every day he lived was another day in which the Noah inside him grew stronger. What point was there in fighting him, really? Allen already knew that, eventually, the Fourteenth would overpower him. It was an inevitability. So why bother forcing him down now? It was so...exhausting…

* * *

Kanda reveled in the HQ gardens as the one place in the entire building where he was pretty much guaranteed to be alone at any given time, aside from his bedroom of course. He felt a sort of peace in caring for the flowers there, many as they were. It was therapeutic, occupied his hands with something less intensive than training, and above all else, it was quiet. Not even that stupid rabbit in a human costume Lavi bothered him while he was there, whether because he knew better or because he simply didn’t think Kanda was there it was hard to say, and frankly Kanda didn’t care. He was left alone, which was more than enough.

So imagine his surprise when he entered the gardens late one evening to find a silver-haired boy whom he’d never encountered there before leaning back against a tree, apparently asleep. His chest tightened as his eyes fell upon the lean figure, and he clicked his teeth irately. Of course, he goes somewhere to avoid being pestered, and who should he find but the one person most likely to bother him.

“Oi,” he said cooly, approaching the younger Exorcist. “What the hell are you doing sleeping in a place like this? That’s what beds are for, Beansprout.”

Allen didn’t react, not even to the nickname that could usually summon him, enraged, from across an ocean, and Kanda raised an eyebrow. That was strange. The younger boy must have been impressively exhausted.

“I’ve never been the compassionate type,” Kanda muttered to no one.

He sighed and crouched down in front of the other Exorcist, frowning at the face he couldn’t quite see, shadowed as it was by his bangs. He needed a haircut, Kanda noticed irrelevantly. His silver hair hung around his ears, curling out slightly, and his bangs were tangling with his long eyelashes. An unusual pang of feeling hit Kanda in the chest when he reached out and tilted the boy’s chin up, watching the hair fall away to reveal dark shadows under his eyes, like bruises from a broken nose.

“You ever heard of sleep, Beansprout?” he grumbled, pulling his hand away.

Allen mumbled blearily, his pale forehead creasing and his chapped lips pressing together firmly. Kanda watched as his eyes slowly cracked open, flicking around before landing on his face.

“The garden isn’t the place for a nap, you know,” Kanda said gruffly. “Idiot Beansprout.”

“I told you,” the boy said, voice oddly calm. “My name is Allen.”

Kanda hesitated, thrown off by the lack of hostility, brought on from who-knew-where. It wasn’t because he’d just woken up, or because he was sleep deprived, since Allen tended to be even more volatile when only partially conscious. The eyes looking up at him were clear, like a pale blue pond that had never been bothered by a breeze in the whole of its existence.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Allen said, his arms moving to push himself up.

The blade embedded in the tree behind him just above his shoulder held him in place, but earned no more than a curious raise of an eyebrow. A sneer curled Kanda’s lips.

“Fourteenth.”

Not a question. Not even a statement. A warning, as cold and as sharp as the katana he pulled out of the tree. He was still crouched, and he used his height advantage well, looming over the imposter and allowing Mugen to kiss his throat, but not break the skin. Yet.

A smile curved Allen’s lips, a smile that wasn’t Allen’s at all. Not his shy twitch of the lips, or his own demonic grin, or the one he wore on the rare occasion that Lavi could say something intelligent enough to be funny. It was cold and humorless, almost deranged, and it cracked across his face like pottery put in a kiln at too high of a temperature, forcing it to dry too quickly.

“Nice to see you again, Kanda,” the Fourteenth purred. “I see you’re still pretending you can keep the promise you made Allen.”

“I’m not pretending to keep to any promise,” Kanda growled. “And I’d never promise the Beansprout anything anyway.”

The Fourteenth clicked his tongue disparagingly and reached up, wrapping a hand around Mugen’s blade, heedless of the blood that began to trickle down his forearm. Kanda stiffened and jerked back at the sight of Allen’s blood, and the Fourteenth chuckled. It was a gross sound and one that did not belong on Allen’s tongue.

“Didn’t you vow to kill him when he let me take over?” the Noah said, eyes flicking to the slice in his palm.

Without any care for the Exorcist pointing a very sharp object at his throat, the creature raised his hand to his face, and his tongue snaked out to trace the line of the wound. Against his will, Kanda recoiled, the tip of his blade falling slightly.

“If,” Kanda corrected through grit teeth, fixing his eyes on Allen’s.

“Hm?”

“If you took over,” he said. “I swore that I’d kill him myself, if he couldn’t beat you.”

The Fourteenth laughed, and had the sound come from Allen himself, it could have been called pleasant, even to Kanda. But it was the laugh of a Noah, and it merely made his skin crawl.

“How naive,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. He made to stand up again.

“Stay where you are,” Kanda barked.

“Unfortunately, Exorcist, I don’t take orders well,” the Fourteenth said, and the first hint of something malignant fell across his face like a passing shadow. “Particularly not from brats trying to kill me. You understand, I’m sure; survival instincts and all that.”

“Okay. Then consider it a friendly suggestion,” the swordsman offered, tone sharp as a whip. “And if you don’t follow it, your head will end up in the pond over there, Fourteenth.”

“Everyone seems to have forgotten my name,” the Noah groaned, rolling his eyes theatrically. “It’s Neah, you bumbling fool. You might as well learn it.”

“What for?” he said in reply, fingers flexing on the hilt of his sword when the Noah moved. “This is the last time I’ll be seeing you. Allen’s going to get a handle on himself again any minute.”

Neah--the Fourteenth laughed again.

“Allen gave in, Kanda,” he jeered. “He handed over his body to me, just like he was always meant to do. You can’t fight destiny. You should know better than anyone, right?”

Kanda scowled.

“You’re lying,” he said.

“And if I’m not?”

“Doesn’t matter. You are.”

“Are you really ready to stake your life on that? On that frail little piece of hope that somehow your weak, human friend can reclaim what is rightfully mine?”

“That body belongs to Allen Walker, Exorcist to the Order,” Kanda said, throwing each word like a dagger. “And he will never allow it to be used to kill his own comrades.”

“Oh, but isn’t that where you come in?” the Fourteenth asked curiously.

In a blink, he was on his feet, and not even Kanda quite caught the movement in time to prevent it. The tip of his sword merely remained on its line with that pale, vulnerable throat.

“What are you talking about?” he spat.

“That vow of yours,” he elaborated, reaching out with his left hand to touch the tip of his index finger to the point of the sword. “To kill me when I take over. Allen knew that was your plan, after all. You both knew that was what he would want. To be killed, so he doesn’t hurt anyone he loves. The naivety is almost beautiful, really. Admirable, of course.”

“I won’t have to,” Kanda ground out.

“You should have already done it,” the Fourteenth taunted, stepping forward and sliding that fingertip along the Mugen’s blade. “The moment you realized it wasn’t Allen you were waking up, you should have, as you mentioned, sent my head rolling into that pond over there. But you didn’t. You care about him too much to do that, after all.”

“Shut up,” Kanda said, heart beating painfully in his chest and blood roaring in his ears. He wasn’t about to let his fingers tremble, but he could feel the way they begged him permission.

“Or are you hesitating because you don’t want to kill another dear one?” the Noah wondered softly, taking another step closer. “Because you couldn’t possibly live with the guilt of knowing you had killed two of the people that meant more to you than the entire world?”

Kanda jerked back inadvertantly, his grip on his sword falling slack for the briefest second. It was more than enough time for the Noah. The Fourteenth wrapped his fingers around the blade again and jerked it from Kanda’s shaky hand, flinging it well beyond his reach. The Exorcist bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

“You’re the only one that could have, right?” Neah hissed, now prowling around Kanda like a wildcat circling its prey. “But look at you, hesitating even now, even after all that trouble you went through, all that resolve you boasted of, because you can’t do it. You’re weak, Kanda Yuu.”

Kanda had fought a Noah before. He fought Skin, and he even killed him, which might have been considered an admirable feat, had he not been the slowest, the dumbest, and the most annoying to boot. He’d also seen Allen fight; he’d seen with his own eyes the speed at which the boy can move. But Neah was leagues above Allen.

An agony not unfamiliar joined the gross, warm feeling of blood as Allen’s fingers, transformed into those blade-like claws, tore into his chest and sent him flying back several meters. He landed heavily on his back, but he paid no mind either to his winded lungs, which had somehow not been punctured, or to the new wound in his torso, attempting to water the flower bed he’d landed on with blood.

“It’s too bad, really, that Allen had to put his faith in someone like you,” the Fourteenth sighed as he approached.

Kanda stiffened, shifting his stance in preparation to dodge the next attack.

“He trusted you far too much, and all that trust did was get his hopes up. How cliche. But then, you trusted him, too, didn’t you?”

“What--what would I--trust him for?” Kanda rasped. “Idiot can’t--do anything.”

“Oh, but you did,” Neah disagreed. “You still do, even. You seem very certain that Allen can beat me. You have every faith that he can lock me up in a corner of his mind and never let me see the light of day. It’s admirable, maybe, but foolish.”

A lump of ice in Kanda’s throat prevented him from swallowing, but he shook his head, trying to dispel his distress. It was definitely foolish, there was no denying that, but his faith in Allen was well-founded. That stubborn ass of a kid could barely fit his own soul in that tiny body. There was no room for two, and his mind would not be the one to give up. Kanda knew that. He knew it as sure as he knew God was cruel, and at least that notion gave him something a damn sight more hopeful to believe in than some omnipotent being that allowed His creations to endure so many horrors.

Allen could beat Neah. Allen would beat Neah. Kanda knew that absolutely. However mistrusting he might be, he knew he could always, always count on his Beansprout to be irritatingly tenacious, with all the flexibility of a grown oak tree.

“You can’t kill him,” Neah said cheerfully, no more than a step away from Kanda. “You know you can’t. Even though he’s gone, you can’t stand to look at his face and raise your weapon as more than a hollow threat.”

Kanda’s lip curled. He’d never liked know-it-alls, especially when they acted like they knew him. It was one of the reasons he’d never seen eye-to-eye with Allen.

“You’re wrong,” Kanda snarled. Neah paused, head tilting curiously. “I can kill the two of you any time I want.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Because I don’t have to,” he said savagely. “I’ll know when Allen’s given up, and that’s the only time I’ll attack you with the intent to kill. But he won’t give up. Not to you. So I can kill you, but I won’t.”

“Haven’t I told you already?” the Fourteenth cackled. “I’m here now because he was tired. So very tired of his own comrades shunning him, and so very tired of fighting me, the inevitable. He knew it was only a matter of time, so he chose now. And unfortunately, it looks like you’re going to break that promise, Kanda Yuu, because while you can’t bring yourself to kill me, I have no such reservations toward you.”

The vicious grin that split across Kanda’s face was more like the snarl of a wild predator, and even as Neah lunged forward, claws outstretched, his hand shot out and managed to catch that wrist. The tips of his claws just barely caught the jagged edges of his torn clothes.

“What…” Neah hissed, and he was glaring not at Kanda but at the hand trapped in Kanda’s iron grip.

“You might’ve been sharing his head all this time, but you don’t know a damned thing about Allen,” Kanda said succinctly, and he tugged Neah closer, so that his claws caught not on clothing but the half-healed injury across his chest. “I can kill you, if I actually have to. But Allen can’t kill me, and you sure as hell can’t force him to hurt someone he doesn’t want to hurt.”

“You fool, Allen is gone,” Neah sneered, and that shadow passed over his face again. “You’re a dead man walking the moment you decide to trust somebody like him, a person destined to be erased.”

“Trusting Allen might be the one smart thing I’ve done with my life,” Kanda disagreed, and he continued to reel Neah in, the claws sinking deeper into his flesh all the while. “He’s stupid and annoying and his optimism gives me a headache every single day, but despite everything that pisses me off about him, I don’t think I would trust anybody with my life more than the kid you’re never gonna get rid of.”

The pain in his chest was incredible. Both the burning as his body drove straight through the shock process and straight into the healing stage with no regard to pain receptors and the cold claws sliding through layers of muscle and sliding under bone were excruciating, but he’d become a master of controlling his pain a long time ago. It didn’t matter, none of it did. The only thing he cared about, the only thing he focused on, was the pale blue gaze sliding in and out of focus, the mouth hanging open slightly, signs of a struggle Kanda couldn’t see but knew was taking place.

Allen’s core instincts had been stamped, burned, and carved into the very essence of his being, and no amount of force on Neah’s part could make him betray those values. Neah would not force him to kill his own loved ones, could not keep him locked up inside while he used his body to murder people Allen cared about. It wasn’t possible. Kanda trusted in the boy’s stubbornness above all else, as it was the only thing that had yet to fail his expectations.

He felt the blades jerk in his chest and then disappear, and apparently they had been the only things holding him up, because the moment they were gone he felt the ground slam into his knees. Or maybe the other way around. There was a moment where he teetered precariously, his vision going in and out of focus, and then there was something in front of him and on his shoulder, and a high, frantic voice was shouting at him obnoxiously.

“Kanda! Kanda, come on, look at me!”

“Shut up, I am looking,” he snapped irately, reaching up to swat aside the hand on his shoulder. “You’re annoying.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m always fine,” he replied. His vision was already returning to normal, and the burning in his chest was shrinking in area, though not in intensity.

Allen was kneeling in front of him, the real Allen, eyes wide and frantic with hair falling into his face again. A spark of relief jumped in Kanda’s chest, a spark that he quashed at once because he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Allen had beaten the Fourteenth back, so why should he be relieved?

At Kanda’s reply, Allen’s expression changed, and apparently he took that as a confirmation that it was okay to hit Kanda.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he demanded, fist slamming into Kanda’s shoulder. “You knew it was him! Why didn’t you--”

Allen choked on the next word and lapsed into silence, his eyes red and angry.

 _For the same reason you can’t finish that sentence_ , Kanda thought.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Kanda snapped, shoving Allen back. “I’m not taking you out of the fight as long as there’s some fight left in you.”

“You couldn’t have known that--”

“I could and I did,” he said bluntly, rising to his feet and striding in the direction of his abandoned weapon. “Now shut up already, you’re gonna give me a headache.”

“You can’t let the Fourteenth go!” Allen persisted, running after him. “He was--he was in control! You know what you’re supposed to do if--”

“Who let him take over in the first place?” Kanda interrupted coldly, rounding on the white-haired boy. “Quit blaming your shortcoming on me, Beansprout. You’re the one that gave in in the first place!”

Kanda was expecting a petulant comeback. However, what he got was silence. Allen had gone so unnervingly still that Kanda couldn’t even hear his breath, and even as he watched the boy he bowed his head, shielding his eyes in the shadow of his bangs.

The desire to reach out to him was what made Kanda turn away. There was no point in patting his head as if he were some sort of domestic, overbred pet, and he was not about to pretend that anything of the sort had a point aside from instilling a false sense of security. Before he could take a step, however, Allen spoke, and as small and fragile as his appearance was, his voice was even weaker.

“I’m sorry.”

The hesitation in Kanda’s feet made him want to curse his own body parts, but he reluctantly turned back around.

“I just…” the boy mumbled. “I’m tired...Everyone’s watching me, all the time. Waiting. They’re just waiting for me to not be me anymore, and I’m scared they’re right. That I’m going to disappear, and Neah is going to kill all of you. No one thinks I’ll make it, and I’m scared they’re right, and I’m tired. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of fighting something inside me.”

“Tch, who cares what everyone else is thinking?” Kanda snapped. “Most of them are almost as stupid as you are. If you’re letting yourself be ruled by something as useless as fear, you probably will lose. Everybody else doesn’t matter for shit, Beansprout.”

“Wow, thanks so much for the self-esteem boost, Kanda,” Allen said sarcastically.

“I’m not here to hold your hand,” he said in reply. “This is your battle, and I can’t help you fight it.”

Allen said nothing, but looked to the side frustratedly. His fingers were curling and uncurling into fists at his sides and, seeing that, Kanda sighed heavily and turned away.

“Besides, not everyone thinks you’re gonna lose,” he said. “I know you’re too stubborn to give in once you’ve made up your mind.”

He started walking again, but threw a last mutter over his shoulder, and it felt like he was trying to run away from his own words.

“You won’t lose. I believe in you.”


End file.
